


Athrim

by Hakero



Series: Dragon Age Inquisition [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Other, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 11:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16196348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hakero/pseuds/Hakero
Summary: Athrim was born within the walls of Qarinus to house Erasthene, only son of lady Dephorla and Altus ran far from Tevinter. His father’s sudden disappearance left him panicked, seeking the graves where his cousin tended to husks left behind to rest as one of the Mortalitasi. He must find his cousin and make way out of his home country.





	Athrim

 

Silky black hair shaved upon the sides. Eyes, red as wine. Lips poised and lush but painted a dark blue at all times. Delicate features as if a young boy. Cheeks a little plump, skin pail but fair. A small scar sits upon his right brow. He adores the colors of the sea and deep greens of the winding forests and topped trees; his outfits maybe battle worn but the color is always focused on the flora always calmed his gavel. Facial hair upon his upper lip and chin, stubble follows behind of silken black. His appearance comes off as a little menacing, people would stare at him from afar with slight fear. He tucks his birthright as it dangled down his chest and settled closer to his navel in a shape of an owl in flight away within his robes, away from prying eyes. His weakness may come from keeping away from running away from confrontation, instead of settling it.

* * *

 

  Born within the walls of Qarinus to house Erasthene, only son of lady Dephora and Altus ran far from Tevinter. His father’s sudden disappearance left him panicked, seeking the graves where his cousin tended to husks left behind to rest as one of the Mortalitasi. Athrim arrived to Alucious study, his back against the wall, black hair to his shoulders drenched with sweat. Veins climbing up his neck and face unnatural and pulsing. Eye like black olives, watching as Athrim kneeled in front slowly. Guarded by the hand of the unwilling, protected by bodies that laid cold within the walls. The air stood still with anger, the soft glow of candles were the only source of light as they flickered and surrounded the study. Alucious drew a dagger from his side from his unkempt satin robes.

 

“I don’t have much time left, I can feel the lyrium tare at me from within.”

 

He coughed and heaved as his lungs wheezed. Without hesitation the blade made way through his palm, blood swirled and danced making way to Athrim’s heaving chest. With his gift was Aluci’s early demise. Tired of the world he lived in, surrounded by death. What had become of his people left his sanity disarray, wars call created monsters of man.

 

Athrim watched as the blood seeped into the crest of Erasthene upon his breast where his heart sang within wildly. His eyes wide in fear watched as red lyrium slowly drew from the corner of Alucious mouth, forced upon him by the Vinatory to ingest. Athrim felt himself shake as he closed his mouth once agape, he could taste it. The smell of tin, warmth of his kin. The blood made way down his throat as he swallowed deeply.

Fear, holding his blood cold and captive was now of fire.

 

“Anger will keep most dead alive.”

The last words of Aluci echoed through his thoughts, grabbing his staff and behind him raising the empty husks.

He could hear his own heart’s pulse though his ears, the smell of rotting flesh filled his nostrils.

Athrim pointed the staff to his relatives remains focusing a spell upon the body, but the husk didn’t move.

Instead a figure, body of shaded breath flowered. Aluci presented himself a spirit or could have been a demon.

A ghostly hand points to the open door with eyes hallowed and whispered voice.

"Time is our enemy. We must flee these lands, or they will find us.”

Lowering his arm, he looked around within the tombs walls, his emotions became frantic.

Dead stood around them, some moaning that almost made out a cacophonous hymn.

“What… have I done? What have I done?! All the bodies, all the bodies?! "

Athrim stood his ground, the staff crackling with anger as his robes behind slowly played with the air seeping through the magic as if gravity was a myth.

“Silence!

I must focus my energy, I will rain fear into the heart of those about to open hells gate.”

 

The spirit drifted over to him, he saw Athrim as he heard him choke and whisper spells under his breath.

His hands shaking as he stood, staring upon the door. Athrim’s eyes told the world he was afraid, Aluci watched as the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Sweat thick and cold and made way down his face as it stung the cut skin he had nicked while shaving that morning.

 

“Do not give into the demons of man, fear will destroy you as it did I.

Let go, begin way towards the border so we can escape!

Oh, how I should of listened to mother, how I should of not gone down this path

So many dead.”

 

The whites of his eyes now glossed over of red finally closed, beads of sweat rolled down as the husks fell to the ground as did he trying to catch his breath.

 

“Lead the way”

 

He said, hand to his chest trying to calm his beating heart.

Athrim found ground once more.

The spirit slowly drifted over to what remained of the body, looking down at the dagger inched away from the hand that bled still.

 

“Take my body, take it and bury it away from this place.”

 

Athrim’s back found the wall behind him, the staff fell from his fingers exhausted from using all he could conjure in hatred. Palms placed against the wall, fingers spread trying to clutch the concrete.

 

“By horse will be our best bet, thankfully she will be able to bear your weight as well as mine.”


End file.
